


Fleeting Hunger, Lasting Appetite

by ShadeDuelist



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Engineer is tired after a long day of fighting, cooking, and finetuning his sentry.  And his unruly mind wanders.  But it wanders in a direction he didn't quite plan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleeting Hunger, Lasting Appetite

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a challenge issued to deviantart's trossidevil, who is my Engie bestie and the burning ember of my Pyro heart ;3 Pyro is in your hands now, darlin'!

The engineer sighed, rubbing his weary eyes before laying down his white pencil with which he’d been meticulously drawing the blueprints of his upgraded sentry.  He had no doubt that the measurements were accurate and the lines flawless, but he could feel sleep wrap its grubby tendrils around his brain and squeeze the energy right out of his neural pathways, making the entire process of concentrating and trying to find a better stress division for his li’l number’s tripod ten times more agonizing than it already was.  He reckoned he’d deserved his eight hours’ sleep that day twice over, even if it was only nine PM and the rest of the mercenaries were still in the rec room on the other side of the base.  The noise of the television sounded dim, but he knew that the fifteen yards it’d take to get to the rec room - past the storage, past the showers, past the medbay and the armory and the computer room and the off-limits area and the garage and who even knows what else - were enough to make any kind of ruckus sound dim.  Once, Soldier had started barking commands down the hallway to test how well the noise carried, and it carried so poorly he’d requested and obtained an intercom system.  Or, well, ‘requested and obtained’ wasn’t as accurate a term as ‘pestered Engineer about it so much until the southerner caved and rigged an intercom system just to shut the man up’.

It was that intercom system that now crackled to life and issued the voice of the Soldier himself.

“ _That was a magnificent match today, sons, you’ve done me proud!  Drinks are on me and THEY WILL BE HARD!”_   With a groan, the engineer rose from his chair and shook his head, addressing the intercom as if it was the soldier himself standing in his workshop.

“Nah… yew go ahead an’ git them drinks, have one extra fer me.  Ah’m plum tuckered out, fellers… need me mah beauty sleep…”  He smiled as he heard the others move out of their rooms: of course Demoman, Scout and Sniper had already been in the rec room together with Soldier, pre-celebrating their resounding victory of the day, but now Spy, Heavy and Medic also joined the group, probably with varying degrees of eagerness.  Heavy was usually a reserved man when it came to drinking, though he was warm and caring regarding the rest of the team; Spy and Medic were more aloof, more distanced and professional, but clearly everyone had given the fight their all that day more than any other day, since they clearly desired to brave the raucousness of their drunk teammates for a little relaxation and celebration of their own.

The only one whose door he did  _not_ hear was Pyro, but that was normal.  Pyro rarely exited his room apart from when they needed to fight, which was a feat all in its own right: the engineer figured he’d go crazy if he’d have to spend all of his time sequestered away in between the same four walls every hour of his free time.  On top of this willing solitude, the southerner mused, the firebug had the smallest room of the lot, which was still a balmy three hundred square feet but which in no way compared to Heavy’s five hundred square feet room or his own workshop-and-bedroom of a whopping one thousand four hundred and fifty square feet. Granted, his bedroom area had just about the same surface area as Pyro’s since the workshop area took up most of the space - a disused sentry he was currently using for experimenting with sapper-proofing his gear stood in the center on a separate workbench, and bins with various chunks of metal lined the walls alongside toolbenches, workbenches, the desk he’d just gotten away from, and the explosives cabinet where he kept his remote detonation packs for his gear.

“Ah, best put me on mah pajamas-”, Engineer muttered to himself just when a knock on the door startled him.  Walking over, he could see Medic and Spy standing there, clearly dressed for a night on the town.

“Monsieur Engineer, would you like to join us for zee evenink?”, the Frenchman asked, his tone making it clear that he asked the question only out of politeness and not because he genuinely wanted Engineer there: that was the reason why he also shrugged very quickly when Engineer shook his head, stepping into the hallway towards the others that were standing at the door to the garage.  However, Medic still remained at his door.

“Usually you are happy to join us, Herr Engineer, was ist los?”  The Medic’s voice sounded uncharacteristically warm and slightly concerned, even, which was why the Texan found himself smiling wearily at the man to reassure him as he explained.

“Yeah, ah know, an’ it ain’t that ah don’t wanna join, but ah’m done worn out fer the day - firs’ all that fightin’, then preparin’ dinner fer y’all… then workin’ on mah sentry… ‘m all strung out, an’ havin’ drinks may relax me, but it ain’t gonna do me no good t’morrah mornin’, when there’s ‘nother fight t’be fought.  …Go ahead, yew all, enjoy yer evenin’, drink one fer me too - but leave me t’mah bed.”

“Ach, I undershtand zhat, mein Friend… enjoy your Ruhe, zhen.”, the Medic said, patting him on the shoulder before moving off to the others, who were waving to him - Engineer waved back and then, as the door to the garage closed and the excited exclamations of Scout and Sniper sounded over the din of starting cars and opening gates, he shut his bedroom door and walked over to his desk chair again, slowly undressing and hanging his clothes neatly over his desk chair for the next day.

“Ahh, ‘s gon’ do me good…”, he admitted, scratching his bare hip and looking himself over with a sleep-craving grin.  “…’Still lookin’ good there, pardner, yeh’re real handsome.’  Heh, why, thank yeh kindly.”, he accepted his own compliment, twisting his voice slightly, elevating its pitch and tone to make it sound almost feminine, chuckling at the thought and adding in that same faux-feminine voice: “‘Awh, Engie, yeh’re such a smart feller, an’  _good-lookin’_ tuh boot, how’s one guy git all that in one neat li’l package?’  …Well, ‘s the Lord’s work, ma’am, ‘s the Lord’s work, ah’m jus’ a real lucky sonuvabitch t’be blessed the way ah am.”  The truth of the matter, he knew full well, was that he had a bit of a pot-belly, and his years were starting to show in more ways than one.  He wasn’t as spry as he’d been in his early days on the team, and lugging the sentry around slowed him down more than it had used to as well.  But all in all, age was being kind to him.  “…Ah, yeah, a real lucky mother-hubbard, ‘s me…”, he said a little more softly, scratching his hip again before walking to his bed.  He wasn’t unattractive, that much he knew.  Ladies had fallen for him in droves back in the early days, and now his fanclub had only gotten bigger.  Every lady in town was smitten with him because of his gentlemanly demeanor and the respect he showed them, other than the outright lewdness or the cold indifference of the others.  Scout really needed to check his hormones at times; Sniper and Soldier as well.  Demo wasn’t interested in the women at the village, preferring the bachelor lifestyle; Heavy agreed with him.  Spy believed the country girls of the village to be beneath him - that, and he had a heavy romance going with the other team’s scout’s mother, and she was  _fiercely jealous_ if the rumors were to be believed - and Medic only had eyes for Heavy.  And Pyro, of course, had never gone to the village.

It was a shame and a sin, Engineer mused, that such female beauty was lost on his fellow mercenaries.  He hadn’t actively tried to seduce any of the ladies, though they were all certainly beautiful in their own ways, but one of them had not hidden her desire for him and he had to admit that he was just a man with needs like the rest of them…  Francine, her name was.  She had a nice little home at the edge of town that she’d worked hard for, with a vegetable garden at the back and a lawn at the front.  Her lawnmower hadn’t worked - or, at least, that was the excuse she’d used that day, because of course the machine worked when he’d taken a look at it.  A grin erupted on the engineer’s face as he remembered how she’d offered him a cup of freshly made coffee for his time, and how that cup of coffee turned into him spending the evening in her bed heating the sheets…

He supposed it was a testament to his weariness, more than a surge of his hormone levels, that his body rose to the occasion: the mere thought of that evening had his flaccid length stir in the cold night’s air.  And his sleep-riddled mind did not mind the physical arousal one bit, if the fact that he happily kept conjuring up the memories of that night was any indication.  Before he even made it to his bed, his member was already standing at attention, and the engineer groaned.

“Awh,  _hell,_ could’a picked a better darn time tah think’a gittin’ laid…”  Sexual frustration was a constant in the days at the base: it wasn’t as if the mercenaries had a lot of opportunities for that kind of thing, let alone the time.  The chances of getting another roll in the hay with Francine, with her warm smile and her freckled shoulders and full, curvaceous body…  “Awh, _hell,_ stop thinkin’a gittin’ some, it ain’t gon’ happen, ‘specially not tuhnight.”, he chastised himself, shaking his head.  However, his mind did not stop reminiscing about that one evening where the woman had gently touched his cheek, pulling him closer for a kiss that had been anything but light.  Oh, she’d needed him just as badly as he needed her…  Groaning, the engineer relented and lay back on his bed, his pajamas foregone for the moment in favor of his hand dropping to his length to gently but decisively stroke himself, encouraging the mental images.  Francine had had such sure hands, such nimble fingers - she’d gotten him liberated from his overalls in seconds, he could have sworn.  She certainly managed the feat in his mind’s eye now, enticingly beckoning for him to join her: his mind’s version of himself eagerly crouched over her, rolling his hips against her, kissing her deeply.  “Oh lord…”, the engineer groaned, imagining himself burying his head against the soft, creamy, freckled skin of her shoulder that was surprisingly bony suddenly.  His hand sped up just a little, fingers tightening around his length for more friction, as his mental self deeply inhaled the scent of sweat and sex on the air and the lingering aroma of something burnt and Francine groaned - only it wasn’t Francine that groaned anymore.  Below him in his fantasy, the curvaceous woman had changed into the scarred Pyro, the firestarter looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, his shoulders just as freckled as Francine’s but his heavy breaths and his shivering limbs somehow… somehow…

The engineer had seen Pyro naked on a couple of occasions. All of the mercenaries had been scanned for the respawn machine, of course - and as the most tech-savvy of them, he’d been ordered to work along with the company employees on those moments, forcing him to see his eight fellow fighters paraded in front of him in the buff.  Fortunately, that had been in the beginning of their mutual careers, and they’d both elected to forget that ever happened.  Then, there was the fact that their rooms were adjacent, and thus they’d sometimes run into each other in the showers, or on the way to or back from them.  Each one of those impromptu occasions had ended with the pyromaniac quickly hiding his face and running off as quickly as his legs could carry him, probably due to shame or fear, which was just silly in the Engineer’s view since the Pyro had nothing to be ashamed for.  His body, though somewhat on the awkward side with the scars and the very sparse body hair, wasn’t unattractive… if he was completely honest, even, he was  _glad_ the pyromaniac had run away each time, because he’d gotten slightly turned on by the sight of the other man… and it was that same attraction that now spurred him on.  Engineer’s body reacted as though on autopilot, but he was still aware enough to know that he consciously chose to slow his strokes and instead focus on the mental images of the pyro pleading for him.

‘ _Oh Engineer… p-please, I’ve wanted this for so long… please, ahh, please, I need this… need you…_ ’  The firestarter’s voice sounded low and plaintive and  _seductive_ , and Dell whispered out an answer.

“Mmm, Pahro, son, yeh can’t possibly need this more ‘n ah do…”

‘ _But I do, oh Engineer… I’m always thinking about you, about having you - even when we fight… oh, when you’re building that dispenser of yours, all I can think of is you bending me over it and- god, oh god, I’m so_ hard _right now, I need you to make me come, make me complete…’_ Each word that the pyro spoke in his mental image had the southerner’s heartbeat rise, until it was thundering in his ears as his hand slowly, indulgingly, stroked his by now aching length.

“Awh, Pahro, say it like tha’ again… tell me whut yeh want-”, he ground out, his voice still managing to sound soft in the confines of his room.

‘ _F-fill me, Engineer, fill me, stretch me,_ take  _me… oh, f-f- just_ fuck  _me, Engie!’_ Finally, the engineer’s hand sped up - or rather, his hips did the speeding up as he fucked his hand as though it were the pyro’s slender body that was now accomodating him in his fantasy.  His rough thrusts were certainly demanding - in his fantasy, Pyro yowled happily as he was roughly taken without any preliminaries.  ‘ _Oh yes, oh yesss-yes-ye-e-essss… j-just - nnngh! - just like thissss… ahhh, d-deeper, my god, right there!   Ahh, Engie, f-fuck me, ‘m yours… ahhh, all yours…’_ , the firestarter moaned out, the sound of his voice obscenely sensual even if he didn’t really hear it, and Engineer huffed out a response, biting his lip to keep from moaning even though there was no one else on the base.

“F-fuck yeah, Pahro, all mine… ‘m gon’ make sure… y-yeh know that fine ass ‘s mine an’ mine alone… ‘m gonna fill y’up s-so well… ahh,  _gawd_ …”

‘ _Oh, oh Engiiieee, p-please, harder, harder… oh my god, I l-love this, I love_ you _, Engineer…’_

“Mmmmh, l-luv this too, Pahro… ahh, gawd  _damn,_  yeh’re such a dream…”  The fantasy version of Pyro managed to get his legs up higher so he could hook his arms under his knees, spreading his legs even wider and allowing him to sink deeper into the hot, alluring, _open and welcoming_ body of the man that was pleading in short, whimpering gasps now, managing monosyllabic words as pleasure took him over: Engineer’s hand grew tighter around his length but his rhythm and his ferocity in searching release did not abate, and with just a few more upward thrusts into his hand he lost it: biting his lip to keep from moaning loudly into the quiet that enveloped the base, he went over the edge, his seed coating the palm of his hand and slicking his last few thrusts before his hips stilled and he huffed out a few steadying breaths as he shook his head when the full implications of his fantasy hit him.  “Gawd damn… “  It wasn’t that he felt disgusted or anything - it wasn’t like Soldier’s first foray into same-sex fantasy, something that the man had been tight-lipped about even when he’d later drunkenly and unabashedly admitted that he’d been thinking not of some pin-up girl but of  _the enemy Demoman_ when he’d first jerked off in the showers.  It was nothing like that.  The Engineer was well-educated, after all, so he  _knew_ that there was nothing wrong with being attracted sexually to another man - even though none of his PhDs were in the soft sciences like psychology, his logical mind said that it was just as natural as any other kind of attraction or desire.  No, what had him softly shake his head and curse was the memory of the fantasy image of Pyro saying that he loved him and the completely non-sexual warmth that had inspired in him.  He hadn’t just fantasized about having wild, mind-blowingly perfect sex with the firestarter; he had fantasized about having wild, mind-blowingly perfect  _and emotionally complete_  sex with the firestarter, complete with an admission of love.  And now he felt sorrowful about it having been nothing but a fantasy.  “Darn it, git a grip on yerself!  Since when’d yeh start wantin’ t’git  _involved_ with anyone?!  Dagnabbit, son, yeh’re jus’ a  _sad_ display-”, he berated himself - but then, a loud and urgent cry for him, issuing from Pyro’s room next door, rent the quiet of the night and the engineer acted on impulse that was fuelled both by the battle-honed sense of danger and the slightly emotional aftershock of having imagined his friend confessing feelings for him and  _getting off_ on that thought.  He quickly wiped his sticky fingers on his bedsheets before pulling on his pajamas and running out the door, into Pyro’s room.

“‘m here, pardner, whut-”, he started as he pushed open the door - but then, as his eyes fell on Pyro, who was too slow to jump under the covers or hide the telltale signs of the way  _he, too,_ had indulged himself, his words died in his throat, and he just  _stared_ at the other man before speaking softly.  “P-pahro?  Yeh… yeh were… me?   _Me,_ pardner?”


End file.
